


Another Day

by anthemXIX



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Platonic Cuddling, Secrets, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28678584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthemXIX/pseuds/anthemXIX
Summary: Time wants to tell Warriors that they have met before, but weeks into traveling together, he has yet to broach the topic.Too bad the Triforce of Courage only applies to life-and-death scenarios and not emotional intimacy.Or: Warriors is sick, and Time reflects.
Relationships: Time & Warriors (Linked Universe), Warriors & Wind (Linked Universe)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 176





	Another Day

Another day, another nondescript forest.

Two and a half days of hiking, and still the Links had found no sign of civilization, no monsters, no discernible reason they’d been brought to this particular Hyrule. Gainless wandering was not exactly a morale booster, Time thought, glancing over his shoulder to the dreary parade of heroes trailing him through the wilderness. They were all silent and glossy-eyed, weighed down by the prevailing sense of futility.

The quiet disconcerted Time more than he expected. He’d grown accustomed to hearing the boys’ white noise behind him: Four and Sky’s soft conversation; Wind’s theatrical narratives; Legend and Warriors’ friendly quarreling; Twilight’s well-meaning scolding after Wild and Hyrule slipped away _again_. There was comfort in those sounds. They felt like family. Like home.

Normally, Time appreciated quiet—the serenity of his ranch served as a solid anchor in an otherwise tumultuous life—but he imagined that, when this adventure was over, the quiet of home would feel as hollow and ghostly as the hush that dominated these empty woods.

He chastised himself for mourning something that was not yet lost and concentrated instead on the little Sailor sidling up next to him. With his hands clasped behind his back, Wind exuded an aura of forced nonchalance that scarcely veiled his worry.

“Everything all right, Sailor?”

“Mhm.”

“What do you need?”

Wind mock-pouted. “Do I need a reason to walk next to you?”

“No, of course not.”

The youngest hero kicked a pebble down their path; it skipped and skittered off into the grass. “Well. Actually, there is something... I know we haven’t really done anything today, but do you think we could make camp early?”

“Is something wrong?” Time questioned, giving Wind a once-over.

“Uhh… It’s nothing, really…”

Time’s skeptically raised eyebrow spoke for itself.

“Okay, fine,” Wind relented. “The Captain isn’t feeling well.”

“Oh? He’s ill?”

“Yeah. I had to practically _force_ him to admit as much. He’s not gonna ask for it, but I think he could use a break.”

“Is it serious?”

Wind rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t think so, but he won’t really say. He’s too macho or something.”

“Or too stubborn.”

“Yeah, probably. All of you guys have such a martyr complex.”

Time chuckled. “And you don’t?”

“That’s not the point,” Wind said, flapping a dismissive hand. “So could we maybe stop soon?”

“Of course.”

Beaming, Wind clapped his arm. “Great! You’re the best!” Then, as an afterthought: “Please don’t tell him I asked you for this.”

“I won’t.”

As Wind floated back to Warriors’ side, Time tried to study the Captain more closely. His slumped posture and flat expression matched the group’s current motif and wouldn’t necessarily have seemed indicative of illness to Time’s scrutiny. Time would have to keep an eye on him.

It was another hour before they arrived at a clearing that could feasibly house all nine of them. Time anticipated objections to stopping so early in the evening, but none came. He supposed no one was in the mood to continue a trek to nowhere.

Camp set-up was just as languid as the rest of their day. Four and Hyrule volunteered for firewood duty; Twilight went off for his usual patrol; Sky opted for a pre-dinner snooze. Warriors promptly plunked down and leaned against a tree with a sigh. Sitting next to him so closely their legs brushed, Wind murmured something that made the Captain smile and toss his arm around the Sailor’s shoulders.

Watching the two of them interact was surreal for Time, as if he were viewing a reenactment of his own memories. In what felt like another lifetime, he had been the young, starry-eyed recipient of the Captain’s easy affection. The conspicuous difference was that Wind, still cheery and innocent in spite of his burdens, was far better adjusted than Time had been as a child. Traumatized from two back-to-back adventures, he had refused to speak and constantly hid his face behind his masks, erecting a barrier between himself and a world that promised only pain.

Yet the Captain had demonstrated limitless patience and disarming kindness towards him, and Time found himself caught in a strange dance, alternately shying away from and leaning into the attention he so desperately craved but didn’t know how to handle. Unfettered by such problems, Wind could wholeheartedly reciprocate the Captain’s fraternal love, and Time was glad for that; it’s what Warriors deserved in a little brother.

Little brother. Was that what Time had been? He wondered how Warriors remembered the apprehensive child who sometimes ran away from him and sometimes followed at his heels like a duckling tailing its mother.

Finding out was simple enough, Time reminded himself, if only he were to divulge his identity. When they first came together for this adventure, Time recognized Warriors instantly, but of course Wars didn't recognize him. He fully intended to inform the Captain of their shared past when an opportunity for private conversation arose.

For his part, Time had considered Warriors an older brother. _Had_. He wasn’t certain how to characterize their relationship in the present considering their bizarre situation.

For one, he was now the older, more seasoned individual, the role model. In fact, with his “real” age, he was old enough to be Warriors’ father. Further complicating the matter, Warriors was in his twenties and thus inhabited a peculiar grey area where Time could perceive him either as an adult peer or an inexperienced youth depending on the circumstances. Warriors seemingly viewed himself the same way, because he doled out commands and deferred to Time’s authority in equal measures.

When Wild called everyone for dinner, Time put his thoughts aside and joined his boys around the campfire. He was relieved when the delicious food and relaxed atmosphere stoked pleasant conversation, causing everyone’s spirits to rise.

Legend made several attempts to goad Warriors into their usual banter and frowned at the Captain’s lackadaisical responses. He and Wind both observed with concern as Warriors wordlessly finished his meal, returned to the tree he’d rooted himself beneath earlier, and draped his scarf over his legs like a blanket, but they let him be.

Once dinner was eaten and the heroes were embroiled in storytelling and one-upmanship, Time slipped away from the group and took Wind’s vacated spot at Warriors’ side. Up close, he could see that Warriors’ cheeks were pale yet rouged with a sickly, rosy flush. Even so, Warriors flashed his typical charming smile. “What’s up, Old Man?”

“You’ve been quiet. Are you feeling all right?”

Warriors looked away. “I’m a little under the weather, but I’m sure it’ll pass by morning.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me,” he said playfully. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

Time didn’t press the issue. Some of the younger heroes hid illness or injury, afraid of appearing weak or disappointing the others, but the Captain, used to operating in a collective, understood that obscuring the truth hindered everyone in the end. If he required more than a good night’s rest to recuperate, he would no doubt let Time know.

Warriors turned to Time and cocked an eyebrow. “So. What’s up? Is there something else?”

Feeling some _déjà vu_ , Time smiled. “Do I need a reason to sit next you?”

“No. It just looks like there’s something on your mind.”

Time hesitated. The quiet space between them, accentuated by the campfire’s crackle and the laughter of their companions, offered fertile soil for a heart-to-heart. But ultimately, Time simply shrugged, noncommittal.

Warriors imitated the gesture and, closing his eyes, said, “All right, well. Just spill it when you’re ready.”

 _When you’re ready._ If he waited for that, Time would never disclose their shared past. In truth, many opportunities to do so had come and gone in the weeks they’d traveled together, yet despite his intentions, Time declined to broach the topic again and again.

It wasn’t because he didn’t know what to say. As a child, he hadn’t been able to process his emotions, much less verbalize them, but now, after so many years, he knew exactly what he wanted—needed—to say to Warriors. He wanted to tell him how much he had admired and respected him. How he had loved him, still loved him, like an older brother. How their interactions had affected him so profoundly that he felt the afterglow even now, decades later.

No, the problem was not lack of opportunity or an inability to articulate his thoughts. Instead, Time mulishly refused to initiate this conversation for one simple, shameful reason: He was afraid.

To share his long-gestated feelings was to leave himself defenseless against the Captain’s reaction, which he couldn't predict. Would Warriors be happy at their implausible reunion? Would he even care? What if Time blathered out unrequited sentiments and was met with awkward silence?

But really, Time could handle rejection, indifference, awkwardness, or any negative response the Captain might have…except for one.

What if Warriors was disappointed in the person Time had become?

It was silly, of course. Irrational. Childish. Time was well beyond the age where he might yearn for the approval of an authority figure. But age and experience aside, that’s what Warriors still was to him, in some way. There still lived in Time’s heart a lonely, broken child seeking to make sense of the cruelties fate had cursed him with. A child searching for compassion and validation after sacrificing himself for a world that forsook and forgot him.

Which was why it was so foolish to spurn this rare mercy granted to him by the universe. Many people died with regrets of words not spoken, yet Time was now conferred the uncommon chance to express the unexpressed. Neglecting to do so was selfish, too. For all his freely given kindness, the Captain deserved gratitude, deserved to know the meteoric impact he’d had on someone’s life.

Too bad the Triforce of Courage seemed only to apply to life-and-death scenarios and not emotional intimacy.

Time was jarred from his musings by a sudden weight against his side. Startled, he glanced down to see a peacefully sleeping Warriors leaning against him, resting his head on Time’s shoulder.

Something warm filled Time’s chest, a bittersweet blend of a little brother’s idolization, a father’s fondness and protectiveness. Carefully, he circled an arm around Warriors, softly clasping his waist to hold him upright. He closed his eye to listen to the giddy chatter of the other boys and the whisper of Warriors’ soft breaths. The sounds of home. The sounds of family.

When stifled giggles and coos replaced conversation, Time looked up to find seven heads turned his way, with Wind and Wild both snapping photos (as a memento or as blackmail material, Time didn’t know) of their oldest party members cuddled together. The poor Captain would no doubt be teased about this for weeks.

Not long after, swaddled in the moonless dark, the heroes fell into comfortable and merry silence as they retired to their bedrolls one-by-one. Wind crept over, crouching in front of the Captain. “Is he okay?”

“Yes. Just tired, I think.”

Wind hummed, and then his worried façade was fractured by a grin. “Should we wake him to go to his bedroll? Or are you two gonna snuggle all night?”

To his surprise, Time felt a split-second of resistance to ending this moment, but he swiftly stuffed it down. “We should wake him.”

Gently, Wind laid a hand on the Captain’s arm and jiggled it lightly. Warriors’ eyelashes fluttered, and he lifted his head, rubbing the reddened cheek that had been pressed into Time’s shoulder. “Huh? Wha—? Wind?”

Wind hooked his hands around Warriors’ elbow. “You should lie down. I set up your bedroll for you.”

Warriors nodded, then blearily glanced at Time and slurred, “Sorry, Ol’Man, think I fell ‘sleep on you.”

“That’s okay.” Time disentangled himself from the Captain, ignoring the small sting of loss that accompanied the movement. “You ought to lie down, as the Sailor said.”

Nodding again, Warriors wobbled to his feet with the Sailor’s help. “Oh, wasn’t there—was there somethin’ y’wanted t’talk about?”

“Ah…” Time stood, brushing dirt from his trousers. “Don’t worry about that now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. It can wait until another day.”

“Okay, then.”

Wind led Warriors to his nearby bedroll and helped the Captain settle in, even tucking his scarf around his shoulders. Warriors nestled into the fabric and muttered some sleepy thanks.

Time smiled at the sight and patted Wind’s head. “You’re taking good care of him, Sailor.”

Wind glowed at the compliment, and Time bid him good night before meandering to his own bedroll. Surreptitiously, he watched from afar as Wind curled up next to the Captain. Sensing the younger hero nearby, Warriors slung an arm over him, pulled him close, and rested his chin on top of Wind’s head.

For a moment, Time felt phantom warmth as he remembered the Captain scooping him up, cradling him. He would go rigid in Warriors’ arms, stiffly clinging to the omnipresent scarf, terrified of the foreign concept of love expressed through touch. But in the end, the Captain’s rhythmic heartbeat would soothe him like a lullaby, and he would relax and rest, reassured by the revelation that sometimes the world was gentle and kind.

Lying in his bedroll now, Time flipped onto his back to gaze at the far-flung stars. _Another day,_ he’d told Warriors. It wasn’t an excuse, he decided. It was a promise. And whenever another day came, Time hoped he’d be brave enough to keep it.

**Author's Note:**

> did i write this primarily for the image of wars falling asleep on time’s shoulder? i will neither confirm nor deny. 
> 
> i’ve written a bunch of random snippets about time/mask and warriors that i hope i can eventually pull together into a coherent story or two. i guess we’ll see, lol. 
> 
> thank you for reading!!


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